


Fix-It

by cal1brations



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Noiz, Canon Disabled Character, M/M, Minor Injuries, Noiz can't feel, there's a brief mention of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/cal1brations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noiz likes his quietness, but there’s something good about Clear’s company. Perhaps because it’s not forced—Clear just tends to show up when he does, maybe once a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Noiz doesn’t really know, but he doesn’t question it much more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix-It

“This?”

“No.”

“…This?”

“No.”

“…Th—“

“Preemptively, no.”

Clear makes a noise not unlike a whine, sitting back from Noiz, who’s currently hunched over his keyboard, working diligently even with Clear pestering him every other second; to be fair, Noiz tends to zone out when he’s working, especially with legitimate work that’s making him quite a bit of bank, so it’s not a real hindrance whenever Clear drops by.

However, Clear has this habit of not taking Noiz’s word about the fact that, yep, Clear could do just about _anything_ and it’s not going to bother Noiz one bit, because he can’t feel the pain of Clear pinching him or much of anything, really.

He’s poked at Noiz for a good ten minutes today, which is not the first time he’s done it, but Noiz promised to have this USB ready for a guy by midnight, so he’s been cranking that out while Clear bustled around him in his dark apartment, and finally came to sit with Noiz to pester him.

Now, he just looked put-off, frowning as he watches Noiz’s fingers tap furiously at the keys, renaming and reformatting the files to fit on his little memory stick.

“Hasn’t changed since last week, or the week before that,” Noiz tells him plainly, focused on the glowing screen before him. “I couldn’t feel any of it then, either. I never could.” Never will.

Clear still doesn’t look happy about that, and Noiz heaves a sigh as he finishes up, waiting now for the files to transfer—an hour, at least. He sits back in his seat, cracking his back with a little hum before looking to Clear, arching a brow at him.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Clear finally says—pouts, more accurately. He got his lips poked down in such a dismayed frown, and Noiz thinks he can probably hear the hint of whirring coming from him as he thinks it over. “Surely there must be a fix for something like that, isn’t there?”

“No,” Noiz answers definitely, practiced. “There isn’t.” _I’m just stuck like this_.

Clear does make an obvious sound of upset, looking at Noiz as if _he_ is truly wounded with this information, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open in a long frown.

However, it only lasts for a moment, enough to show his upset, but it quickly turns into one of Clear’s usual smiles—which Noiz is only used to seeing very recently, since Clear generally kept his mask on up until a few months ago around Noiz. He still keeps it on outside, though, so maybe Noiz should be feeling grateful Clear allows him this time to look at his very-human face.

“Don’t worry, Noiz-san,” Clear tells him sincerely. “It’s not a bad thing!”

Noiz can’t help but snort a little at that, scratching his chin as he glances to the holographic screen in front of him—yep, definitely an hour. He doesn’t look to Clear as he answers, “First time anyone’s told me _that_.” _I don’t believe you_.

Clear wiggles closer to Noiz on the sofa, nodding at him vigorously. “It’s true! It can’t be bad, because Noiz-san is very nice!”

That’s the most childish reasoning Noiz has ever heard, and he smothers a smirk into his fingers as he leans forward to the keyboard again, dragging the hologram of it closer so he can slouch back with it under his hands. He ignores Clear’s words, instead bringing up a movie from his Not Pirated Shit folder (lies, it’s all pirated) and puts it on, half-leaning into Clear as it starts.

“Can I watch?” Clear asks, and Noiz just shrugs, eyes glued to the screen. He doesn’t care, Clear is free to do what he wants. He’s practically a wanderer as it is—Noiz usually ends up entertaining him because he just comes home to find Clear sitting in his apartment already, bursting with joy when Noiz comes through the front door.

He _is_ a little attached, though. Clear is… interesting.

Clear decides to take the shrug for a yes, and they sit together and watch the horrible action movie together. Clear walks with Noiz for a few blocks later on, when Noiz goes to meet his client and get his pay for the job, but Clear disappears somewhere on the way.

* * *

 

Clear comes by one night when Noiz is already home, surprisingly.

He taps on the sliding glass door to the balcony, and Noiz nearly falls off the couch in surprise. He drags himself up to open it for him, watching Clear come in and stand there mutely while he gets his gas mask off. Which is concerning, even though he’s smiling like his usual self. Noiz closes the door and stares at Clear, expectant, until Clear opens his mouth and—

Nothing really comes out. Weird.

There’s some kind of noise there, though. A hiss—just like the sound of an off-air frequency, and Noiz squints as he looks at Clear.

“I’m not a mechanic,” Noiz tells him plainly, arms crossing over his chest. Clear has seen him work, unlike others in their… rag-tag group of whatevers. Mink thought he was some maniac-hacker-freak, which was only slightly off. Ren was baffled when he and Aoba showed up in the middle of Noiz working. Koujaku—well, fuck whatever that guy thinks in particular.

Clear should know better.

But he just stands there, shuffling his feet a little and tilting his head side to side, like he’s trying to explain his dilemma, but not a word of it is coming out, and Noiz sighs.

“I can look,” Noiz tells him. “I’m not saying I can fix it or whatever, but I can at least look at it.”

Clear nods at that, and Noiz gets him to come sit on the couch, watching him unravel his scarf and slide out of his coat, setting them very lovingly beside him before he turns his attention to Noiz with a passive smile, waiting for Noiz to tell him what to do, apparently.

Noiz takes a look at him—stares, more accurately—as he sits beside him, trying to see what there could be to look at. He’s not too familiar with androids, robots in general. AllMates are one thing, but Clear is _way_ more advanced than his bouncing Usagimodoki cubes. He sighs, unsure of where he can start, and grabs Clear’s chin, tilting his head this way and that. The way Clear moves when Noiz moves his head is fluid, but Noiz can feel the resistance of Clear’s hardware under his fingers, not used to being forced around like this.

“Is there…” Noiz frowns. “Do you open up? Anywhere?”

Clear nods quickly, patting his chest. His gloved hands come up to work on the first couple buttons of his shirt, and Noiz lets go of Clear’s face so he can focus on the task, slipping out of his top in a few mere moments and looking back to Noiz, bright as ever. Noiz looks, sighs, and gets up, leaving Clear on the couch while he heads back to his room, returning a few minutes later with his beat-up, piece of shit toolbox.

“Open it,” Noiz tells him, and Clear does just that, the front of his chest sliding open, odd panels of material Noiz couldn’t place even if he tried; Clear is… very different from an AllMate, that’s all Noiz knows, just from a glance inside at his hardware. Certainly not much like Usagimodoki’s insides, to say the least. But there are some similarities, and well, audio isn’t usually too complicated, so Noiz figures he’s got a fighting chance with Clear.

He glances at Clear’s face, watching Clear’s smile burst into a full-blown grin at Noiz. He sits there patiently, hands in his lap as he arches his open chest cavity to Noiz, waiting for him to start. Noiz sighs, reaches for his tools and digs out a few of his go-to’s: screwdriver, flashlight, a slender pick, and tweezers.

“Change your mind?” Noiz asks as he clicks the flashlight on, and Clear shakes his head, then nods eagerly at Noiz. He doesn’t need a voice to convey what that means. _I trust you completely, Noiz-san! I know you can do it!_

Noiz sighs at that, flicks his gaze down to Clear’s chest once again, and takes his first peek inside with his flashlight in-hand.

Two and a half hours later, with a lot of effort and Noiz having to take a break to rest his cramping hands (and also to look up a guide for literally _anything_ android-hardware-related on his Coil), Noiz nearly stabs his tweezers into Clear’s chest cavity as Clear chirps out the most gratuitous, “ _Noiz-san_!” once Noiz gets the correct wire to slide into place.

Clear hugs him, chest still splayed open, and Noiz makes a grunt of acknowledgement, giving the guy a pat on the back.

“You fixed me, Noiz-san! I _knew_ you could!”

Well, Clear’s the only one who thought so, then. Noiz figured this would be a fucking disaster, but he’s pretty grateful he didn’t end up trashing Clear’s metaphorical guts.

“Yeah, well,” Noiz says, but nothing else, because he doesn’t have anything else to say. He just lets Clear hug him until he’s satisfied, and then he’s pulling back and closing himself up and putting his layers back on.

Which makes Noiz blurt out, “Don’t you get hot with all that shit on?” Which, yes, was something he was curious about, but he had no intention of asking Clear outright like that. He doesn’t know what came over him.

But Clear doesn’t seem fazed, only wraps his scarf around his neck with great care as he explains, “I have a cooling system, so I don’t overheat!” He smiles at Noiz, and Noiz can _see_ that little look he gets before he asks in turn, “Doesn’t Noiz-san get hot? Humans are not equipped to handle hot in extremes, like I am. And Noiz-san wears a _lot_ of clothes!”

Noiz sets to putting his equipment away while he speaks, shrugging. “The temperature is just like pain for me,” he answers, rather vague, and there’s a moment of silence before Clear seems to understand just what Noiz means.

“Noiz-san can’t feel the temperature, either?” He asks, very surprised.

Noiz shakes his head, flicking the latches on the toolbox when he’s done stowing everything away. “But I _do_ know that I don’t like the summer. It’s annoying.”

“How come?”

“I overheat,” Noiz tells him, figures it doesn’t hurt to tell him. Clear makes a soft gasp, obviously troubled with this information, and Noiz turns his head a bit to glance at Clear, unfazed. “I don’t actually know what being hot feels like for normal people, but I know now that if I’m getting dizzy and my clothes are wet, I’m too hot.”

Clear is frowning, and he plays with one end of his scarf as he looks at Noiz with, what Noiz can only identify as, puppy eyes. “I don’t like that,” Clear tells him in a soft mumble. “I hope Noiz-san doesn’t feel like that very often.”

“Just in the summer time,” Noiz answers as he gets up from the sofa, hefting up the toolbox. “Are you gonna stay? I want food, I’m hungry.” Clear interrupted him from ordering pizza earlier, but he doesn’t mention that part. Clear might cry if he knows he was a bother, and Noiz doesn’t know if he can handle that tonight, too.

“I will stay if Noiz-san will let me!” Clear chirps with a smile.

“Suit yourself,” Noiz mutters as he heads back to his room to drop his equipment off, spends the next five minutes ordering pizza from the local place on his Coil.

Noiz eats beside Clear on the sofa, watching some trashy television show with him. Clear doesn’t eat, but he chats with Noiz, and it’s kind of nice. Noiz likes his quietness, but there’s something good about Clear’s company. Perhaps because it’s not forced—Clear just tends to show up when he does, maybe once a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Noiz doesn’t really know, but he doesn’t question it much more than that.

Noiz falls asleep at some point, there on the couch with his cheek pressed to Clear’s shoulder, where his head lolled as he slowly lost consciousness. When he wakes up in the morning, he’s lying in bed, the fan in the corner of the room turned on and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand.

Noiz notices the window is left open, too, and he leaves it like that for the next week.

* * *

 

Clear is over when Noiz ends up having an accident (he thanks whatever there is that it is not the bathroom-needing kind).

Noiz is opening a package Clear brought inside for him when he came in earlier, sliding a knife through the tape to open it up. He puts too much pressure into it, yanks the knife towards him too hard, and ends up slicing the inside of his thumb, blood quick to pour from the new opening in his skin.

He doesn’t flinch from the cut, but because Clear gasps and shouts, and only then does he notice the blood all over his hand, all over the box, all over his pants. He sighs, sets the knife down as he tries to look at where he’s hurt—it’s hard with so much blood smeared there—and Clear is all over him in an instant.

“Noiz-san! Let me fix it—I can fix it for you!” He’s insisting, and Noiz is pretty sure there’s some tears coming, so he sticks his hand out to Clear, who pulls him up from the floor and into Noiz’s bathroom. Luckily, Noiz is all too used to patching himself up, so there’s first-aid things… everywhere.

“Can I take off these bandages? They’re getting dirty,” Clear mumbles, and Noiz nods, sliding off his Coil to set aside and pulling up his sleeve so Clear can work on his hand. Clear takes off his gloves before he does anything, and ends up digging out a pair of tiny scissors from Noiz’s bathroom cabinet, cutting open the bandages on his left hand and sliding them off into the garbage bin.

And then he stops.

“Noiz-san…” Clear whispers emotionally. Noiz makes a face, unsure of what the particular problem is, and when Clear looks up to him with wet eyes, Noiz feels a twinge of guilt for still feeling confused.

“Your hands,” Clear tells him softly, holding Noiz’s palm in his own, petting the top of Noiz’s hand with gentle fingers. Noiz can’t feel it, but he can tell. “They’re all broken…”

“They’re not,” Noiz says easily. “Just fucked up.” He stares at Clear, who’s staring at Noiz’s hand, not understanding how Noiz’s fingers can be so scared, so warped—three of them are _far_ from straight, even when Clear gently extends them to test them—and still functional. Noiz kind of doesn’t want to think about how the only word Clear could call him was ‘broken’ and the sting he feels.

Deserved, because he let Clear burrow too deep into his tender, fragile heart. Noiz couldn’t, and still can’t, trust anyone.

Clear fixes the cut up, washes Noiz’s hand and patches it over, then gently wraps up Noiz’s hand in a fresh bandage. He’s pretty good, even wrapping the linen over and between each of Noiz’s fingers, and ties it off with a tiny knot.

He pulls Noiz’s hand up to his face, and Noiz only stares as Clear kisses his hand, not only once, but a dozen times. The back of it, the palm, the newest injury there on the inside of his thumb.

When he lowers Noiz’s hand, Noiz steps in before Clear can do anything, before he can even take a breath, and mashes their lips together instead. He kisses him firmly, wanting, desperate, and stays there for a long moment before he pulls back, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth as Clear stares at him.

“I don’t think Noiz-san is messed up,” Clear says quietly.

Noiz doesn’t say anything.

“Noiz-san is good as himself,” Clear says, a little more insisting. “Noiz-san is good just as he is.”

Noiz nods stiffly.

Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

* * *

Clear starts doing this thing.

Apart from coming over almost every day, he starts… saying stuff. Tells Noiz things that surprise Noiz, sometimes to the point of fumbling with whatever he’s holding in his hands (he dropped an Usagimodoki by accident, and had to deal with complaining from both his android companion and his AllMate).

“Noiz-san is so smart!”

“Noiz-san is too good to me!”

“Noiz-san is wonderful!”

And, at first, Noiz kind of figured it was just a Clear thing. The guy wears a gas mask out in public like it’s not the least bit weird, for Christ’s sake, he’s not exactly the most normal person out there. But he just… does it. And the endearments get more and more personal, important, and Noiz is both angry with Clear for saying these things and somewhere inside himself, deeply grateful for it. He’s never been told these things, not by someone who mattered, someone _who gives a shit_ about him.

It’s frightening, the effect.

Noiz has to ask about it.

Clear tells him, “Noiz-san is so handsome with his hat off!” when Noiz sheds some of his attire for the sake of comfort, but that’s when Noiz just barks it out.

“Why are you saying stuff like that?” He demands, cold. “People don’t just say that kind of thing.”

Clear looks surprised, watches Noiz as he throws his tie off, kicks his shoes off, drops these few items to the floor, just off the sofa they’re both perched on. He is quiet for a long, long time, and Noiz kind of wants to kick him out now, because there’s something deep inside of him telling him that he fucking _knew_ it, Clear is just as bad as everyone else, as the rest of the world, because _no one cares_ or stays or—

“I…” Clear starts, then looks at Noiz with soft eyes. “Because I—“

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, he is serious, Noiz can tell.

“Because I love Noiz-san.”

Noiz stares. He doesn’t know what else to do.

Clear runs his teeth—perfect, white, straight—over his lower lip, smooths his palms over the tops of his thighs as he immediately starts up, “I—I really love Noiz-san. I love spending time here and, I love when Noiz-san helps me and fixes me, even though it’s so out-of-the-way… I love the way Noiz-san _lets_ me be with him—Noi--!”

Noiz doesn’t let Clear finish, because he’s furiously made his way over to Clear’s side of the couch, throwing a leg over Clear’s lap and yanking Clear’s face into his hands, slamming their mouths together roughly. Clear makes a noise of surprise into Noiz’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away or fight. Noiz does not feel Clear’s hands settle on his hips, but he can tell by the feel of Clear’s tongue, sliding alongside his own, sloppy and wet and perfect, that Clear _wants_ to be here, _wants_ to stay.

This is weird, but Noiz doesn’t care.

Noiz kisses him deep like that for a long time, until he pulls back and Clear is panting a little bit, lips parted as he whispers Noiz’s name in a tone Noiz did not know Clear had in him. Lustful, to say the least, and Noiz suddenly really, really wants to get fucked by him.

He leans back to yank his shirts off, and Clear’s hands move to hold Noiz’s bare sides. He has to look down to see what Clear’s hands are actually doing there, and he watches Clear rub his thumbs along the bumps of Noiz’s ribs, visible from under his skin.

“Noiz-san,” Clear whispers, and Noiz looks at him. “How… do you…”

Ah. Right.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noiz grunts, diving forward to get Clear’s shirt unbuttoned, making fast work of it and shoving it off his shoulders, throwing it to the side. He rakes his fingers through Clear’s hair, surprised at the softness of it, and leans in to kiss him again, flicking his tongue into Clear’s mouth briefly. “Just go with it,” Noiz whispers into Clear’s mouth, and Clear makes a little moan, but nods.

So Noiz climbs up from Clear’s lap to get his trousers off, shucks them down in one yank, underwear coming off immediately after. He steps out of his clothes and reaches for Clear’s trousers, yanks the belt open and shucks them down to the top of Clear’s knees and—

Grins, actually grins, at the sight of Clear’s cock. What a gift, honestly. It’s fucking huge and perfect—ideological cock, honestly—and Noiz can’t help but get down on his knees in front of the couch, leaning in to wrap his lips around it, reveling in the loud moan Clear makes from the feeling.

“ _Noi_ —Noiz-san!” He cries out, arching up to Noiz’s face, and Noiz grunts as he presses at Clear’s hips to keep him still; he doesn’t have a gag reflex, but he knows he’ll still heave if Clear tries to shove his cock too deep down Noiz’s throat.

Noiz sucks him off, greedily bobbing his head as he tastes Clear’s synthetic skin on his tongue, is surprised when he can taste something that isn’t quite semen but certainly isn’t just drool, and he pulls back then to give Clear’s cock a look.

“Realistic,” he murmurs, but Clear doesn’t do much besides whimper, hips twitching in desperation.

Noiz decides he really, really needs this. Right now.

“Wait here,” Noiz tells him, because he doesn’t have the patience to try and bring this to the bedroom, but he needs lube and that’s something he only keeps stashed under his bed for easy access. Clear nods, and Noiz grants him a filthy kiss before taking off down the hall. Realistically, he’s only gone for a minute or two, tops, but Clear is eager for Noiz to return back to his lap, enthusiastically pulling Noiz into his arms and peppering kisses all over him; Noiz doesn’t like that as much.

“Kiss like this,” Noiz tells him, and presses their mouths together, sucking on Clear’s artificial tongue as he opens the lube between them, hurriedly spreading the stuff over his fingers, working it between his fingers to coat them evenly.

Clear moans and Noiz has to pull back, moving himself to jut his hips back, his chin resting on Clear’s shoulder with the new position as he reaching between his legs and sets right to work, sliding a finger inside—no pain, of course.

“Why… like that?” Clear asks breathlessly, and Noiz certainly hopes Clear is watching him finger himself—it’s not like Noiz really _needs_ to do this, it’s not like he’s going to suffer if Clear just jams his dick in him.

“My tongue,” Noiz tells him quietly. “I can—“ he pauses, angling himself a little better to get the second finger in, rushing it a bit, but who cares? Not Noiz. “I can feel with my tongue.”

Clear makes a noise at that, but Noiz doesn’t really know what it is, so he just keeps at his work. However, he feels himself getting wrenched up by Clear, face-to-face with him, and Clear kisses him this time, sucking on Noiz’s tongue sloppily, but it’s good, it’s really fucking good, and Noiz gives a long groan, pressing closer. He’s glad Clear’s learned about his tongue piercing beforehand, because Noiz isn’t sure he could explain such a thing right now, not when he’s so desperate for Clear, for this.

“Noiz-san,” Clear whispers, voice wavering, and Noiz nods, letting out a quiet breath as he draws his fingers out from his hole, instead reaching down for Clear’s cock and giving him a few strokes with his lube-slick hand, that he can only tell from how easily it glides over Clear’s cock. Clear tosses his head back and moans, so hot, and Noiz leans in to kiss him, sucking on Clear’s lower lip.

“Okay?” Noiz whispers, and Clear nods.

“Please,” Clear whimpers, and Noiz holds Clear’s cock firmly in his hand, uses it to find his entrance and gives Clear’s tip a few rubs there—it doesn’t do much for him, but Clear’s desperate noises certainly mean something to him. He swallows thickly as he presses down, takes Clear’s dick bit by bit. His thighs shake with the effort, and Noiz struggles not to just drop himself down on Clear’s cock, but he can feel some kind of sensation down there, probably the strain on his asshole being just enough to edge into the realm of I Can Feel This So It Must Hurt Crazy Fucking Bad. Noiz takes his time seating himself in Clear’s lap, and when he’s all the way down, he slides his arms around Clear’s shoulders, looking at him silently.

Clear shivers in Noiz’s hold— _in_ Noiz—and he looks at Noiz with half-lidded eyes, definitely focused on the goodness Noiz is giving him. He gives a little clench of his ass, and Clear chokes out a moan, arms jerking up to hold Noiz in a tight hug, bringing them close, close, close.

“Clear,” Noiz grunts out, licking his lips as he holds himself to Clear, chest-to-chest. “Move.”

And Clear obeys.

Thrusts up into Noiz with a jerk of his hips, makes Noiz bounce a little on top of him, and groans. Noiz wishes he could feel Clear holding him—he feels enough to know that Clear is close, touching him in some way, but he can’t feel Clear _clinging_ to him, can’t feel Clear’s nails digging into his skin, anchoring them together as he moves his hips, grinding against Noiz with such calculation, Noiz wonders if sex is just another processing thing that Clear’s brain can do, like how Clear can churn out certain types of information because of the fact it’s just there, in his head.

Clear is noisy as they fuck, and Noiz _likes_ that. Noiz likes that he doesn’t just have to rely on stimulation in his ass or on his cock to be aroused, to want what Clear is trying to give to him. He wishes—but he pushes it aside, focused on listening to Clear pant and moan and whisper things to Noiz as he humps him. Noiz tilts his hips and helps, rides Clear with all the limited skill he has—he’s not really used to the whole sex with another person thing, but he wants Clear to have this, wants this from Clear, so—

“Noiz-san,” Clear pants, and Noiz lifts his head up, blinking at Clear quietly. Clear’s cheeks are actually a little colored—how could that be?—and he looks to Noiz with lustful eyes. “What—what can I do?”

Noiz kind of doesn’t know how to answer that, because the words strike him like he imagines most people would feel a dick inside them; it’s _hot_ that Clear cares about his pleasure, and Noiz swallows thickly, pressing a wet kiss to the corner of Clear’s parted lips.

“Keep—talk to me like that,” Noiz tells him, and it’s vague, and he hopes Clear doesn’t ask, he doesn’t want to tell him.

_Talk to me like you care. Talk to me like I matter._

Clear groans softly, rocking with Noiz’s movements as he struggles to fulfill Noiz’s request. But he manages, manages to tell Noiz how good it feels, how much he loves him, how much he wants to do this with Noiz all the time, wants to be with Noiz always, always, always. He pants against Noiz’s ear about how beautiful Noiz is, how good it feels to be inside him and that he wants nothing but Noiz, Noiz, _Noiz_.

Noiz doesn’t need touch to feel good like this, not when he can listen to Clear’s ragged breathing, moans of pleasure as he tells Noiz all of these things, things that Noiz can’t compare to anything, not ever, and when Clear hugs him tight and _shakes_ in pleasure, tells Noiz he’s so good, so perfect, he’s gonna—

“ _Noiz-san_!” Clear gasps out, and as orgasm strikes Clear, Noiz chokes out a grunt as he grinds back onto Clear, reaches a hand down to furiously fist his cock, yank the piercing at the head hard enough that he thinks it might actually kind of hurt, but he comes, and he comes with Clear, on Clear, trembling and panting.

They twitch and move slowly together as they relax, and Clear makes Noiz lift his head so they can kiss. It’s mostly like they’re licking at each other’s tongues, but it’s good, it’s Clear, and Noiz hums as he savors his taste—a little metallic, perhaps, but overall pleasant.

“Noiz-san,” Clear whispers when they part, foreheads pressed together. Noiz keeps his eyes closed, pleased, and grunts a noise of acknowledgement.

“I don’t want to go.”

Noiz snorts a little, brushing the tip of his nose to Clear’s. “So don’t.”

“I want to stay with Noiz-san,” Clear explains, and Noiz sighs with pleasure as he rests himself over Clear tiredly.

“So stay,” Noiz mumbles, and he feels Clear smile at that, hears the sound of their skin whispering against one another; he assumes Clear has moved to hug him tighter, and he doesn’t bother trying to run away or reject him. He’s perfect.

“Is it alright?” Clear asks in a small voice, and Noiz opens his eyes then, pulling back to stare at Clear. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh or say anything, because he doesn’t feel like it’s appropriate for what he means.

He leans in to kiss Clear instead, cupping the back of his head as he feels Clear with his tongue, tries to convey the words that don’t want to come out of his mouth. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Clear, he can’t, but it’s feeling better, it’s getting better. He _wants_ Clear close. He _wants_ Clear to fuss over him and smile at him and tell him he’s wonderful or perfect or whatever stupid thing Clear wants to tell him in the moment. He’s never felt like this before and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, how to convey it.

So he kisses Clear until he knows.

Clear stays, then.

* * *

 

Clear stays.

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen it many times, that Clear is usually portrayed as the "broken" one (which is not bad, of course). But I wanted to do something recognizing that Noiz is pretty fucked up in his own right, not even just for being human but with his condition and everything else.
> 
> I also just really wanted to try writing NoiCle so. -w- b


End file.
